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I draw back, so my nose is above water, draw in a breath, then plunge down again. This time his cock slides down my throat easily as I lick down his length, then up again as I pull back. I wrap my lips around the head of his cock, give it a slurp, then again.
"Dio cane!" he growls as his fingers tighten around my nape. He urges me to lower my head, as I open my mouth as wide as possible. He applies enough pressure that I take him down my throat, then he pulls me back, allowing me to take a breath, before he once more pushes me down. His dick slides down my throat, and again. The next time he pulls me back, I take in a breath, and he pauses. "You good?" He tilts his head, "If you want me stop, Beauty, you only have to tap my thigh, and I’ll release you."
I stare up at him, and he curls his lips.Bastard.No doubt, he expects me to tap out. He probably wants me to admit that he’s too much for me. That I can’t take his rough handling of me. That I am not able to keep pace with him. That I am too weak to bear his proclivities…and… I know, I know… It’s stupid that I have to turn this into some kind of competition. I mean, ultimately this is about him manipulating my body to suit his needs. Not that I am not getting any pleasure out of it, but surely, he could be more...gentle on me…
Except, I don’t want him to be gentle. I want him to take me as he would any common whore. I want him to use me as his personal fucktoy… Yeah… I know, I need therapy, surely. Who would want a man to debase her, demean her, use her mouth for his pleasure, use her cunt to bring him satisfaction, use her every hole as it would best suit him? Me… That’s who. And no, I am not going to apologize for this anymore.
I have always known my tastes are warped, my preferences extreme, my needs different from what most women want. No pink roses, or candles or soft beds… Okay, maybe the third one is okay… But only so they bring out the contrast to the unyielding body that pushes me into said bed and masters me. So yeah… This is me…unapologetic, uncaring, not in denial for what I want. Not when I’ve met a man whose tastes, surely, run as much to the extreme as my own.
I wrap my fingers around the base of his dick and squeeze hard.
His breath catches. Color smears his cheeks. I bring my other palm down to cup his balls. I massage them and his chest rises and falls. His shoulders flex. He seems to grow bigger, darker, more dangerous, if that were possible. A cloud of heat spools off of him, and slams into my chest. I gasp and sweat beads my brow.
He bares his teeth, then pushes me down, watching as his cock disappears in my mouth. He pulls me back, then presses me down, again and again. His movements speed up. His gaze intensifies. I don’t take my gaze off of him. I keep the connection alive as he fucks my mouth, as tears run down my cheeks, joining the rest of the bath water. Heat flushes my skin and my pulse rate speeds up. I am turned on by how he is using me, and fuck, if I’ll do anything to stop myself from relishing how he uses me. How his body reacts to what he’s doing to me.
His chest planes flex, his belly clenches. The skin around his mouth tightens as he squeezes my hip with enough pressure that I know I’ll bear the imprint of his fingers for days. Hell, if he hasn’t marked me already, in ways that may not be visible, but which I will carry inside of me. On my dark soul, which speaks to his. In my mind, which is racing to keep one step ahead of him. In my heart, which is already his… Fuck… No, no, no. No way… I can’t allow myself to fall for this beast.
His nostrils flare, he grits his teeth, and I know then, he’s coming. A groan rumbles from him as he pulls me back, then urges me down to take his cock all the way down my throat one last time. His entire body tenses, then he throws his head back and growls as he shoots his load down my throat.
